I hope this finds you safe and well and finding ways to get through these strange times.
​ 
Recent work created during lockdown

It took me a while to get back to painting after the lockdown was put in place on 23rd March.  Out for a walk one day, I noticed the remnants of a foxglove - see above, on the left - at the front of my garden (I use the term very loosely, I am gradually taming small parts of it).  I brought it into the studio, laid it flat on the table, and began.  So started a series of these works - mostly remnants of last year's growth, as there were few signs of spring at that point.  More recently, bracken fronds have started to appear, and my daffodils have bloomed, so spring greens have made an appearance in my work.  All the works  - 15 to date - are on large (A2, 40 x 60cm approx) paper - most are life size, some a bit larger.  You can view them all here on my website.

see more flora...

The day before yesterday
I met an old friend on the street
we embraced, kissed on both cheeks,
held each other longer than was
strictly necessary
 
Yesterday, I went to the supermarket
stocked up on what was required
respired, relieved, thankful to behold
full shelves and smiling people
standing close and chatting
not steering clear
two trolley lengths away
at all times
 
Yesterday, I took the dog to the park
threw his ball, watched the children
on the swings and roundabout
playing tig and tag, holding hands
watched a mother wipe a snotty toddler nose -
I didn’t flinch or move away
 
Today I drove out, out into the countryside
as far as I felt like going
and took the dog for a second walk
in the woods, because I could
 
Tomorrow, I shall book a two night stay,
for three months’ hence
in a favourite place
a treat, a retreat, a getaway
a stay away - a place where
I may well encounter strangers
in the bar - make new friends, perhaps,
sit close together, conversing
 
The day after tomorrow, I’m going to the cinema
with a friend. 
We’ll eat out beforehand,
nowhere fancy, just out – we’ll
raise a glass to friendship
 
Tomorrow, I’ll make up the beds
in the spare room, for my friends
coming to visit
 
The day after that,
I won’t feel annoyed when the
football comes on the telly
instead,
I’ll be glad for all the fans
out there, enjoying their Saturday
 
Next week, I’ll play music with my friends
at one of their houses
enjoy a glass of wine,
company, convivial conversation
and tunes
 
The week after that, I’ll join the writers’ monthly
gathering
enjoy a glass of wine,
company, convivial conversation
and stories
 
Today, I shook hands with
someone new I met on the beach.
 
Today, I did not feel afraid.


​
This is a poem I wrote for last month's writers' group meeting; the theme was 2021.  

This is another of my "alphabet" stories. The first one is still here.   I'll be posting a series of stories here regularly in the coming weeks and months.  This one has been recorded for broadcast on local radio and is in my first collection of stories - "A Short Collection of Small Stories". Enjoy.

Absently, George stirred two spoonfuls of sugar into his solitary mug of coffee on the draining board below the kitchen window.  Breadcrumbs lay in a random scatter across the stained grey work surface around the bread bin and the air had a faint tinge of burnt toast mixed with bacon fat.  Coming towards the house along the narrow lane, beyond the low beech hedge at the bottom of the garden, he spied a familiar blue car.  Damn Lydia for coming to visit just now; why couldn’t she call before she turned up?  Everyone else seemed to understand that he needed to be on his own at the moment; why couldn’t she take the hint and stay away, leave him alone?

“Frosty morning, isn’t it, George?”
Greetings with Lydia were always of the stating-the-bleeding-obvious kind.  Huffing on the back doorstep as he took in the sharp, clean January air, George attempted to be civil. 
“I wasn’t expecting to see you till later, at the meeting in the village hall, Lydia.”
“Just as well I popped round then, isn’t it; the meeting’s been cancelled, so I thought I’d bring you some courgette soup and see if you needed anything.”
“Kind of you, but I’m fine, really.”
“Look, I know it’s none of my business, but -”
“My sentiments exactly, it is none of your business.  Now, if you don’t mind, thank you for the soup, but I’m really rather busy.”
“Oh, I see, well if that’s what you want; but George, are you really alright?”
“Peace and quiet, that’s all I want; peace and quiet and to be left alone by busybodies who think they know what’s best for me.”
Quite unexpectedly, Lydia began to weep; copiously and messily, still poised on the doorstep.  Reluctantly, George took her gently by the elbow and led her in to sit at the worn old kitchen table. Still sobbing, but quietly now, Lydia tried to explain.  That everyone in the village had known and loved Penny; obviously not in the same way as George had, but that they had all missed her terribly these past six months and wanted him to know that.  Useless, that’s what they all felt, and many of them had stopped coming to visit because he had made it clear that they were not welcome.   Visibly shaken, George stood again to put the kettle on, find some digestive biscuits and gather his thoughts.
“Widower, that’s what I am now; such a horrible word, such a horrible thing to be,” he though, his gaze fixed on the crows gathering in the treetops at the end of the lane.
 
“Xylophone lessons, that’s what I’m going to take up; there’s a new class starting at the hall next Tuesday evening,” Lydia blew her nose noisily on a square of kitchen towel from the roll that George had thrust in front of her.
“You should come along, it might be fun.”
“Zither, that’s what I used to play, you know; got an old one in the attic, maybe I’ll get it down and see if I can still get a tune out of it” he said as he poured two mugs of tea, the long-lost shadow of a smile nudging at the edge of his mouth.

​I don't need to to tell you we are facing difficult times just now.  I hope this finds you and your loved ones well and adapting to whatever circumstances you find yourself in. 

In my last newsletter, I was sharing news of being part of Poolewe Tuesday Market, stocking some of my products in Cabinet at the lovely An Talla Solais Gallery in Ullapool and an exhibition of my paintings at Inverewe Garden.  You can see the paintings I planned to exhibit (and more), in the gallery pages of my website.  More recently, I had provided cards and sketchbooks to the shop at Gairloch Museum. None of these things is happening now, for obvious reasons. 

​I highly recommend doing something creative during these trying times - draw, paint, write, play music. Plant seeds, and look forward to watching them grow. That's what I was doing yesterday.  Or learn a language - I discovered the wonderful App, Duolingo and have been learning a bit of Gaelic, as well as brushing up on my French and German and getting going with Spanish.  It's a great way to learn, very encouraging and good fun.  Or make soup. Making soup is one of my go-to things when it all gets a bit too much.  It feels like a time for recalibration, in so many ways.

Wishing you all the very best - thank you for your interest in my work, it is greatly appreciated.

Jennifer x

 See my Pebbles on the Beach Facebook page for regular posts and updates.

I have been very fortunate to find a writers' group to join in my new location. They have been very welcoming and I already feel very at home with them all.  It's such a pleasure to share writings with others who write, and to hear everyone's contributions at our monthly meetings.  It is often only when you read a piece out loud that you find the stumbling blocks - literally tripping over words and so finding out that they are probably not in the best order after all.  There is always something to learn, things that can be done better.

As a result of joining the writers' group, I've recently had the great pleasure of being invited to record some of my short stories for the wonderful local radio station - Two Lochs Radio.  A couple of these have been broadcast in the half hour programme, Westwords, which is broadcast on the first Wednesday of the month (at 9pm), and then repeated on the first Sunday (at 8pm).  There are short stories, poems and longer pieces, all by local writers, delightfully interspersed by little snippets of appropriate music.   One of my longer short stories is to be included in the next programme, on Wednesday 4th March (and then again on Sunday 8th March).  If you are not in the local area, you can listen online, via the Two Lochs Radio website.    

In the meantime, I thought I would share one of the stories which was broadcast for the first time at the start of this month, "Beyond the Begonias".  It is also available in print in my first self-published volume of short stories, "A Short Collection of Small Stories".  For anyone who is interested, it is one of my "alphabet" stories, where each sentence starts with the consecutive letter of the alphabet (and the story thus consists of 26 sentences). A little leeway is allowed when it comes to the letter "X"!

After the rain stopped, she started planting again.  Blood red begonias in big terracotta pots.  Celia’s favourite flowers; she scooped handfuls of compost from the bag beside her, pressed the plants in firmly, watered them carefully.  Digging her hands into the warm brown peatiness, she felt something akin to relief.  Even breathing had been hard, recently.  Forever looking over her shoulder, watching her back, thinking carefully before she spoke. 

Gordon had become impossible. Hard to believe that the inert form sitting benignly beyond the French doors had once been a loving husband.  Inch by inch, he had tortured them both into a living hell.  Just when she had got to the point when she knew she must leave, a different plan emerged in her head. Kneeling on her cushioned weeding mat, a voice within had spoken quite clearly.  Laughable though the thought was, Celia turned it over in her mind for several days.  Moving through time in a stupor of misery, she nurtured the idea from tiny seed to little seedling.  Now it was firmly planted; had taken roots, put out grasping tendrils.  Only the timing had to be completely right.  Piggishness on Gordon’s behalf had become the norm; she simply could not tolerate it one minute longer.  Quelling her doubts, which were numerous, irrational and invalid, she acted quickly. 

Right after supper one evening, she summoned him to the rooftop terrace to examine a fictitious missing slate.  Shoving him over the tiny balcony had been easier than she had imagined.  The body landed close to the new flowerbed, dug that morning by the young gardener she had recently employed.  Under the dim sulphur glow of the streetlamps that night, she dragged the corpse into the hole.  Violent waves of nausea overcame her and she gave her stomach contents as a parting gift.  Where he had gone, no-one would ever know.  Exiled to another country, run off with that brassy woman from down the road?  Yes, maybe. 

Zinnia, that was the name she had been trying to recall; that would be perfect for the new bed, Celia thought with a smile.

I hope this finds you well and ready to embrace a new decade. 
I have quite a few bits of news to share, so here goes....
​
Poolewe Tuesday Market 
I'm delighted to announce that I'll be taking part in Poolewe Tuesday Market this year.  It's on from 10am til 2.30pm every Tuesday from the end of March until the end of October, in Poolewe Village Hall, with a wonderful range of artists and makers and food producers selling their wares. I'll have a table there with my artwork, gift items and cards nearly every week.  Details of dates will be listed on my Pebbles on the Beach Facebook page (under Events).  Very much looking forward to this, hope to see you there!

​Thanks so much for your interest in my work, it is greatly appreciated.  

all the best

Jennifer

Pebbles on the Beach has moved...
Since the summer, I have been based near Gairloch on the northwest coast of Scotland.  I am happy to say that this is where you will find me for the foreseeable future.  The move is opening up new opportunities, as well as giving me the chance to strengthen existing connections.  I am looking forward to the next chapter. 

Exhibitions
I currently have paintings (all from The Shipping Forecast series) in two exhibitions - the "Out there in Torridon" exhibition at the Loch Torridon Community Centre Gallery, and the Members' Show at An Talla Solais in Ullapool (my first time exhibiting there, delighted to be taking part!). 
Opening times :  
Torridon - Mon, Wed & Friday, 11am - 3pm. 
Ullapool - Open every day 11am - 1.30pm and 2-4pm, until 22 December. 

I am delighted to say that I will be exhibiting at Inverewe Garden in 2020 - more news about this soon.
​

 Christmas Fairs

I'm taking part in two events in the coming weeks - firstly -

• Poolewe Christmas Shopping Event (organised by the fabulous Poolewe Tuesday Market team)
• Friday 29th November, 4-8pm
• In Poolewe Village Hall

Secondly :

• Christmas Popup shop at the wonderful new Gairloch Museum
• Wed - Sat 4th - 7th Dec, Fri 13th & Sat 14th Dec
  
• Friday 20th & Sat 21st December
• 11am - 4pm 

Look forward to seeing you there!

​I will have a selection of my products at the fairs - shown above are Shipping Forecast calendars, mugs, coasters, small original linoprints (new designs), customised sketchbooks (watercolour paper) and small original watercolours.

Photo credit : Ailsa Watson

I wrote this free-form poem (with minor alterations) at the start of this year. It was a contribution to the Sustaining Life as a Creative Programme, run by the wonderful Creative Learning team in Aberdeen, which I was very fortunate to take part in. 
​The brief was to describe our creative journey. 

I am
 
I am the small pigtailed girl
Perched on the window seat, with
sugar paper and poster paints,
brush and water pot,
newspaper protecting
the wooden trolley
 
I am that girl in shorts and tee-shirt
on the west coast shore
searching for crabs every summer
under stones,
exploring rockpools
before rockpooling was a thing
collecting shells and pebbles,
sticks and stones
 
I am the girl playing in the
corrugated iron shed behind
my granny’s house
wildflowers in a jam jar on the rickety table -
the hedgehog visiting -
imagination my best friend
 
I’m the schoolgirl sailing on the loch
with my first love
 
I'm the teenager climbing hills with friends
gazing over Scotland  -
hills and heather
burns and boulders,
big skies
 
I am the student, drawing in my lab book,
Learning the nature of science
I am the scientist, fishing for facts about
Trout and mackerel and herring,
 
I am the translator, editor, creator,
putter-together of research volumes,
organiser of conferences and treasurer of troves
 
I am the mum with no clue -
doing, not making,
(except soup and cakes and occasionally marmalade)
Making do,
with a head crammed full, jammed full
of domesticity,
a scarcity of time to call mine
 
I am the thirty-something friend,
persuaded to trade
My violin for a fiddle,
To play tunes with people
Who would become pals
To add another dimension
to being
 
I am the mandolin-playing ceilidh band member,
calling out dance steps
- Oh, the feeling of power!
​ 
I am the teacher of students,
The organiser of labs and lectures,
Marker of essays,
And later,
Developer of screen-based things
With no song to sing
Or dance to bring
 
I am the escapee,
Fleeing to evening classes -
Some shaky pots, a few pale paintings,
Tiny steps
 
My sketchbook brought along
On family holidays
For rare moments of
aloneness
 
I am the e-learning adviser,
Brain addled by screens,
Quitting the squeaky lino floors
Before it was too late
 
I am the pupil once more, online
And for real,
(because I respond well to being
given homework)
 
I am the walker,
Walking with purpose -
Two Moonwalks
In three years. 
And Ben Nevis
No hesitation –
meditation.
 
I am the delivery driver,
Dropping off veg
Noticing things.
Gathering ideas
 
I am the spinner of stories
Weaver of yarns
 
I am the open studios partaker
Opening the door to my shed,
Pretending it is a studio,
letting people in to my life
To ask me questions
Which I find hard to answer –
When, What, Why, How?
It seems that some
Wish they had my life, whatever they
May think that is – living the dream –
An endless stream of ideas, most of which
Get washed away in the shower -
Down the drain, never to be
Seen again.
 
I am the artist, maker,
Creator of things
Which bring joy
 
I am the West coast
Inhabitant -
Still walking the tideline
In search of shells and pebbles,
Bleached bones of wood
Filling my pockets
Again and again
Still looking out to sea
And finding
Something there
 

I hope this finds you well and that you have enjoyed the summer - it definitely feels as if we are moving into autumn now.

I am happy to be taking part in North East Open Studios again this year - at the same venue as last year - the Phoenix Centre at Newton Dee in Bieldside, Aberdeen.  There will be nine of us showing a lovely range of work - from furniture to textiles, fused glass to painting, mixed media and printmaking.   We call ourselves Art at the Phoenix for this event.  I am number 302 in the NEOS book.

"Occasional Rain"  - original watercolour
​
You are invited to my Solo Exhibition : 4-29 June at the Acorn Gallery in the Acorn Centre in Inverurie. 
 
The exhibition is open during cafe opening hours, so you can enjoy
coffee and cake, or a light lunch during your visit!
 
Open Tuesday - Thursday 10am - 3pm,  Friday & Saturday, 10am - 4pm. 

The Acorn Centre is within Inverurie West Parish Church, on
West High Street, Inverurie,  AB51 3SA
​

"Fair, moderate or good".

The main focus of the show is a collection of new "Shipping Forecast" paintings, continuing with the theme I started last year during North East Open Studios.  This is a series of seascapes of various sizes, all with titles based on phrases from the the well known and loved Shipping Forecast, broadcast every day on Radio 4.  There will also be a few paintings of Bennachie on show.  

I hope you enjoy the exhibition! ​